The Early Days (Chapter 5)

All of mom’s family lived in Tennessee except for her older sister, my Aunt Bertha. Aunt Bert was only four feet eleven inches tall. I loved Aunt Bert, dearly. I spent a lot of time with her. Aunt Bertha married a man named Gil Henderson when I was about three years old. Uncle Gil took a great deal of interest in me.

           

Uncle Gil & Aunt Bertha

Most weekends, I would spend at least one night with Aunt Bert and Uncle Gil. Uncle Gil taught me to play checkers. He would cheat because he couldn’t stand to lose. Uncle Gil always told mom and dad, “You don’t ever have to worry about Mike. If something happens to you, I’ll take care of him. I’ll send him to college and make sure he’s always provided for.” Unfortunately, I lost my Uncle Gil to a heart attack when I was thirteen years old. He was only fifty years old.

           

I remember when Uncle Gil had his first heart attack. He came home from the hospital and wanted me to come visit him. I told mom I didn’t want to see him when he was sick. I would wait until he got feeling better. That never happened. He had another heart attack and died before I got to see him again. I have always regretted that decision

           

Cousins Wayne & Judy

I remember mom worked until I was about three years old. Aunt Bertha’s middle son, Wayne, was overseas in the Marines. His wife, Judy, was my baby sitter. Recently, I asked Judy what I was like when she babysat me. Here is what she said, “I remember this sweet little boy with big eyes. You were a little on the plump side, and had short little legs that tried to keep up with me when we walked up to Parkmoor. You were always dressed nice, and I don't think you ever got dirty that I can remember. You were a little spoiled, but in a nice way. You never asked for anything, and was always polite. I think what stands out the most in my mind is your smile with a big old dimple, and your southern accent. You were so cute I couldn't help but love you. Wayne was away in the Marines at that time, and doesn't remember anything about you at that age. I hope this helps hon.” I still stay in touch with Judy. We Facebook each other all the time.

           

Barb & Aunt Adie

I started kindergarten when I was four years old. Beavercreek did not have a public kindergarten. So, I went to a private kindergarten at the home of Mrs. McCray. The McCray’s lived on Grange Hall Road. She had converted her basement into a classroom. I had a good time in kindergarten. I remember we took field trips. One of our field trips was to the brand new Kettering Memorial Hospital. The Dayton Daily News took our picture with a stethoscope and wrote an article about our class visiting the hospital. A few years ago I found the newspaper article while going through my Aunt Adie's pictures at my cousin, Barb's house. Aunt Adie had clipped and saved it all those years ago.

Newspaper Clipping

Mrs. McCray also had a beautiful console organ in her house. Remember, I mentioned earlier that Sister Hume played the organ. That instrument just fascinated me. Mrs. McCray’s daughter would give our class concerts on the organ.

Kindergarten Class

           

            

The Early Days (Chapter 4)

When I was first born, mom and dad lived on the west side of Dayton on Oxford Avenue. When I was about a year old, they moved into a brand new townhouse on Embassy Drive. That apartment complex is now called Northland Village. After about a year, they moved back to the west side in a duplex on Broadway. The house on Broadway holds my earliest memories. It was a two-story house. I remember tumbling down the stairway when I was about two years old. 

           

Me About 1963

After living about a year on Broadway, we moved to Kettering into a house on East Dorothy Lane. By now, I had my own little piano. I banged the living daylights out of it. My brother was entering his junior year of high school. And, he had met the love of his youth, Connie Burkes.

           

Mom and dad decided it was time to stop renting and to buy a house. So, they purchased a home in Beavercreek. This house was nestled in the woods behind the Belmont Drive-in Theater which was on County Line Road; and, just across from Bergamo on Shakertown Road. We moved into our home in 1963. That is where we stayed until after I graduated from High School.

           

It was a very small house. It had two bedrooms, one bath and about 800 square feet of living space. But, it had a huge yard. We were surrounded by woods. And, we had probably 20 full-grown oak, maple and walnut trees in our yard.

           

Brother & Connie, 9/4/65

My brother literally hated it when we moved to Beavercreek. His girlfriend and all of his friends went to Fairmont East in Kettering. And, now he felt alone at Beavercreek High. It was about this time that he started to drive. He and Connie dated exclusively. I was pretty much a spoiled brat. I could get just about anything I wanted from my mom. So, if Denny was going on a date and I wanted to go, mom made him take me. He obviously resented it. And, I don’t blame him.

           

I can remember being in the back seat of his car as we were going to pick up Connie one evening. He was so angry that he had to take me with him. He was intentionally swerving the car from left to right. I was rolling all over the back seat. He scared me to death. Now, Denny was just a normal teen who wanted his freedom. And, here he was strapped with his three or four year old little brother on a date. I think I would have been angry, too.

           

I can remember those early, inquisitive years. You know, those years when you ask about everything. I can remember my brother becoming angry with me. He got frustrated with me one day and angrily said, “Why don’t you just shut up! All you ever do is ask questions. I’m sick of it!” I can understand his frustration. But, something happened to me that day. I lost part of that tender curiosity God blesses children with. I don’t think I ever got it back.

           

I was born in an era when there was still a nuclear threat. But, I never had a lot of fear of things like that. I remember seeing the signs for fallout shelters on buildings when I passed them. But, I didn’t really understand what it all meant.

           

Gumby & Pokey

I can remember the day that President Kennedy was assassinated. I was sitting in our living room floor. I was playing with my Gumby and Pokey figures. Dad had just bought me a new Gumby tracing desk. It had a light behind a white plastic screen so you could trace pictures. I can remember the television show being interrupted and the news media coverage coming on. I remember momma running into the living room and shouting, “Oh, no!”

Family

I suppose I have broken the first rule of a blogger: I haven't blogged in several days. Oops! I hope you all are still there and will read!

Anyway, I thought I'd take a pause from my Early Days series and share with you something precious to me. Over the past several years, I have been working on a family photo project. I visited relatives. I scanned hundreds of family photos. I got on ebay and bought an old reel-to-reel tape recorder/player to digitize old church and family recordings. Finally, I sat down and assembled a few videos featuring my families' photos and music. The work is not complete. I have enough photos on my dad's side of the family ready to finish a fourth video. I haven't even stared my mothers side. Nor, have I even begun scanning the hundreds, if not thousands, of family photos from my parents. Most of what you are seeing in the compilations are what I have scanned from my aunts and cousins. So, I thought I would pause and share my work on this project with you, today.

There are a zillion things I should be working on. For instance, my masters' thesis. But, I figured out why this was so important to me this week. Today would be my dad's 82nd birthday. So, I suppose that is what boosted this up on the priority list. Volume I starts and ends with a song, "Old Time Memories," I wrote, produced and recorded several years ago in Nashville. And, it contains audio of my parents, aunt and uncle singing. Each volume is just under 15 minutes. So, I hope you enjoy the presentation. 

Gibson/Pruitt Family, Through the Years, Volume I

Gibson/Pruitt Family, Through the Years, Volume II

Gibson/Pruitt Family, Through the Years, Volume III

Gibson/Pruitt Family, Through the Years, Volume IV

The Early Days (Chapter 3)

Jerry, Pam, Mike & Grandparents Rice

I am one of 27 cousins, counting both mom’s and dad’s side of my family. I was probably closest to Pam and Jerry on mom’s side. Pam was three years older than me and Jerry was about seven years older. And, I was probably closest to Karen on dad’s side. Karen is forever the oldest by 28 days! Yeah, I love to say that! 

Karen and Mike

I suppose it was on top of White Oak Mountain that I first experienced exposure to death. My Grandpa Gibson died in 1964, when I was just four years old. He had a condition called black lung and died of a heart attack at the age of 63. At that time, he seemed so old to me. But, I now realize how young he really was when he was taken from us.

I remember going to Tennessee when he died. The funeral home brought grandpa’s body to the house for the wake. They took down grandma’s bed and put grandpa’s casket in its place. Grandma had a walk-through bedroom. One door went into the living room. The other door went into another bedroom. That’s the bedroom I slept in. I was so young and I didn’t really understand everything going on. All I knew was my grandpa was dead. He was in a box they called a casket. And, he was lying just on the other side of the wall of my bed where I was sleeping. That was such a frightening experience for me.

Grandpa's Casket at Home

I remember walking up to the casket with my older cousins. They encouraged me to touch grandpa’s hand. I didn’t want to. But, I did. It was so cold. I’ll never forget that experience. And, until grandma sold the old home place, I could still envision grandpa lying in that casket in her bedroom. Mom and dad did not let me go to grandpa’s funeral. They were afraid it would be too much for me to handle. Isn’t that almost funny? They let me sleep on the other side of the wall where grandpa was lying in state. But, they were afraid the funeral might be too much for me.

Probably the most pleasant memories of my childhood were related to going to church. When I was about a year old, mom and dad started attending Dayton Gospel Temple. The church was located on the corner of Cass and Clay Streets, in Dayton, in the Oregon District. In the early 1960’s, this was still a pretty safe part of town. It was just starting to show the signs of decay that manifested itself in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. Of course, now it is a trendy place to live.

Rev. Keith & Betty Hume

Our pastors were Rev. Keith and Betty Hume. Pastor Hume was somewhat short in stature, but tall in spirit and a handsome man. Sister Hume was one of the most beautiful ladies I have ever met. And, at eighty-plus years old, she still is. Sister Hume sang and played the piano and the organ. I was Sister Hume’s number one fan.

Our church was a historic building in a historic part of town. It had the most beautiful stained glass windows I have ever seen. It had been built by the German Reformed Church in the 1800’s. The windows looked like very detailed oil paintings. I can remember sitting on those old, beautiful, hand carved pews. I remember the morning sun coming through those gorgeous windows. The eastern windows were scenes of the River of Jordan and the surrounding olive trees. The light was so bright you could hardly look at them.

Window From Gospel Temple / Urban Krag
c. 2009, Patricia D. Ryan elzora.com

I remember the sounds during Sunday school. The building had three stories. And, it had virtually no individual rooms. It was all open space with portable fabric dividers. You could hear dozens of teachers teaching. All of their voices blended together in one glorious explosion of sound.

I remember the congregational singing. The organ and piano were the only instruments on hand. Sister Hume played the organ and Mother Hume (Pastor Hume’s mother) usually led the singing. I can still hear the echo of all that sound reverberating off those walls. In the background, you could hear the pops and cracks of the old radiator steam heat in the winter.

            

I can remember walking into church on Sunday morning. Bill Ackerman rang the church bell. It would pull him off of his feet. I also remember leaving church on Sunday evening. I can still see the warm glow of the church lights shining through the stained glass windows as I peered at them from the outside sidewalk.

Temple Trio 1964
Mom, Peggy Ackerman & Betty Hume

Mom used to sing with Sister Hume and Peggy Ackerman in the Temple Trio. Once a week, Peggy would pick mom and I up and we would go to the Hume’s home and they would practice singing. The Hume’s had a daughter, Melody, who was just a couple of years younger than me. Inevitably, Melody would coerce me into going to her room to play with her toys, which mainly consisted of Barbie dolls. That was pure torture for a three or four year old boy. But, Melody turned out to be quite a beautiful young lady. I didn’t mind, so much, spending time with her when I was in my teens. And, through the beauty of Facebook, Melody, as well as many other of my church friends, are still connected. Not only are we connected, Donna has been able to meet most of them and we are all now friends.

Donna, Mike and Melody

During my early childhood, I developed a great love for music and a deep faith in God. That passion has stayed with me my entire life. Thank you for taking the time to read this very special chapter that is dear to my heart in my Early Days series!

The Early Days (Chapter 2)

My grandpa was a very loving soul to me. However, he was quite the headstrong man in his early years. Grandpa’s mother died when he was four years old. By the time he was twelve, he was on his own. So, he was a survivor. Grandpa did not know how to read or write. All he could do was sign his name.             

There was a razor strap always hanging in grandma’s and grandpa’s living room. My parents always told me to be good or grandpa would use that razor strap on my behind. The last time grandpa used that strap on my momma was when she was seventeen years old. He caught her kissing her fiancé, Charlie Cannon (her first husband) goodnight at the door. I guess he unmercifully beat her. As I understand it, mom cried all night long.

            

Grandma was always kind to me. However, I remember one time when we went to visit. My Uncle Arlen (grandma’s youngest) and his children came to the house. I remember how happy she became, how her face lit up, how she caught Arlen’s kids up in her arms and gave them huge hugs and kisses. I could sense that she cared a lot more for them than she did for me. But, to her defense, they lived in the same city and she saw a lot more of them than she ever did me.

            

Black Oak Cemetery

In this area of the south, honoring the dead and decorating their graves was a very important part of the culture. Every year, we would go to Sparta for “Decoration Day.” This was held in May, but not on Memorial Day. Mom, her sisters and grandma would make paper flowers and we would take them to the cemetery where my aunts and other family members were buried. We would pack a picnic lunch and stay a good portion of the afternoon at the cemetery.

            

The Rice Sisters

The cemetery was at Black Oak Church of God. That was the church in which mom and her siblings were raised. It was a simple, clapboard building. It had simple pews and an old upright piano. Whenever we would go to the cemetery, my family would invade the empty church building. Someone would bring a guitar. My Aunt Ilene would play that old, out of tune, piano. And they would sing songs like “Echoes from the Burning Bush,” “The Unclouded Day,” “Let Us Have a Little Talk With Jesus,” and the list goes on.

            

Pam and Mike

When we would go back to my grandparents’ home, the singing would continue. Dad, mom, Aunt Ilene and Uncle Willard would sing for hours. My cousins and I would play around that old coal stove. I was pretty much the youngest. So, my older cousin, Pam, took pride in being able to beat the snot out of me whenever she got the chance. Of course, I NEVER did anything to warrant it. LOL

The Rice Family: Willard Rice, Ilene Rice, Lorene Rice Gibson & Junior Gibson

            

We would visit my Grandma and Grandpa Rice about every three months. We would visit my Grandma and Grandpa Gibson about once or twice per year. Grandma and Grandpa Gibson lived on top of White Oak Mountain, just outside of Jellico. At one time, grandpa had owned over one hundred acres. By the time I came along, they had sold the farm off except for three acres.

            

Grandparents Gibson

Getting to my grandparent’s house on White Oak was quite a trek up the mountain. While taking those steep curves, you could almost see the front end of the car meeting the back end of the car. All the while, we passed huge, loaded coal trucks leaving the mines.

Gibson Homestead

Grandma and Grandpa Gibson had what seemed to be a very large house to me back then. Grandpa had built it when dad was around six years old. Upon completion, they moved out of the coal mining camp into their new home. Originally, it was a three-room house. But, grandpa kept adding on to it. By the time I was born, it had a huge kitchen. A basement had been dug. It had central coal heat. It had four bedrooms with a total of five double beds. When the entire family visited, we used every one of those beds. Plus, we used the roll-away beds, the sofa and the sofa sleeper. 

            

Behind the house set a small block building. That was grandpa’s office. In addition to being an electrician, he owned the mining company. He had a huge building we called the shop. The shop held all of the coal mining cars and equipment. Behind all of these out buildings was grandma’s garden. Behind the garden was the chicken coop. To me, this was a really big chicken coop. It probably measured at least 20 feet by 40 feet. By the time I came along, the chickens were long gone. But, my cousins and I would go back and play in the abandoned building. All the time, we were scared to death that a rattle snake or copperhead may join us.

            

Cousin and General Store

The house set on a hill across from an old-fashioned general store. You know, just like the one you would see while watching “The Waltons.” Some of my fondest memories were when Grandma Gibson would take me by the hand. We would walk down the hill from the house. She would look both ways to make sure a speeding car or a coal truck wasn’t passing by. Then, we would cross the highway and go to the general store. I remember the store’s owner being so kind to grandma. He would say, “Hello, Ms. Gibson. Who do you have there? Is that Junior’s boy? What can we get for you?” Grandma knew that I loved banana flavored popsicles. So, that is what we would get and go home. She always kept the deepfreeze stocked with banana popsicles.

The Early Days (Chapter 1)

I am beginning a new blog series entitled, "The Early Days." This work was originally published in 2006, as a requirement for my undergrad degree at Antioch University McGregor. I am offering this to my readers because I believe in order to understand where we are going, we must understand where we have been. So, if you are a follower, it is my hope that sharing with you my roots will give you some insight as to what has made me the man I am, today.

I am Michael David Gibson. This is the story of my early childhood. It is a discovery of who I was. It is a search for the influences that have made me the man I am today. What influence did my family have on me? What influence did society have on me? What influence did human nature have on me?

A Star is Born! :)

I was born Wednesday, September 30, 1959, at Good Samaritan Hospital in Dayton, Ohio. My parents were Roscoe Gibson, Jr. and Lorene Gibson. I was my father’s first and only child. My mother had another child by a previous marriage: my half-brother and only sibling, Charles Denny Cannon. I lovingly called my big brother “Brother” until I was in my teens and forced myself to break the habit. Funny to reflect, I have never really known what to call him since then: Chuck or Denny. Perhaps he should still be just “Brother.”

Dad and Mom - 1958

As I grew, I realized that my parents were a little older than the parents of most of my friends. Dad was thirty years old when I was born. And, mom was thirty-one. They both had been married before they met. And, they had both been victims of painful divorces.

Mom and dad were born and raised in Appalachia. My dad was born in a coal mining camp in Anthras, Tennessee. Anthras is a small community nestled in the mountains about fourteen miles east of Jellico, near the Tennessee and Kentucky state border. My grandpa Gibson was an electrician in the coal mines. I have heard dad talk about his own work in the coal mines when he was a young man. One day he was in the mine eating lunch. He momentarily got up from the rock upon which he was sitting, leaving his lunch pail behind. And, lo and behold, as soon as he got up, a huge boulder fell from the roof and landed right where he had been sitting. When he turned around and saw his lunch pail crushed under the rock, he left the mines - never to return. On his way out, he met grandpa at the entrance. Grandpa asked him where he was going. Dad said, “I’m leaving and I won’t be back.” Grandpa simply replied, “Good.”

Great Grandparents Daniels

Mom was born and raised in Sparta, Tennessee. Sparta can be found in the Cumberland Mountains Basin. My grandparents, Dillard and Lizzie Ann Rice, were sharecroppers. Mom has shown me several homesteads where they lived and raised tobacco. It is safe to say that mom’s upbringing was of a poorer economy than that of dad’s. To pass the time, she and her siblings learned to play the guitar and sing. The musical influence in their lives came through mom’s maternal grandmother, Grandma Daniels. Grandma Daniels was a circuit music teacher. She traveled to the neighboring communities around Sparta and White County and taught music. Mom always said that Grandma Daniels looked like, acted like and had the same fire as the character “Granny” on the Beverly Hillbillies.

The roots of my Appalachian heritage are strong roots. My earliest memories include being in the back seat of our 1953 Ford traversing winding country roads traveling from Dayton to Tennessee. Those earliest trips in my life were made before the interstate system was complete. A memorable highlight of those long drives was being able to stop and eat at a restaurant chain called Jerry’s. It was very similar to the Big Boy chain. I remember always getting a coloring sheet with crayons while I waited for my food.

Donna, Grandparents Rice & Me

Another fond memory of mine was traveling to my maternal grandparents’ house in Sparta. In their early retirement, Grandma and Grandpa Rice had bought a small house in town. In my earliest memories, they did not have an indoor bathroom. I remember being taken down “the path” to the outhouse. Man, did it ever stink in there! Grandma and grandpa had a five-room house. The only heat in that house in the wintertime was an old coal stove. The living room, where the stove set, got unbelievably hot. Then, you would go to another room and freeze. Whenever I would go to bed at Grandma Rice’s house, I would crawl under a stack of at least five homemade patchwork quilts; along with a cousin, or two.

Sunset Rock, Sparta, TN

I have vivid memories of the visits to Sparta. I can remember driving past Sunset Rock. Sunset Rock is located five miles east of Sparta. The bluff-line stands 75 feet above the highway and on a clear day you can see Sparta nestled in the valley below. Momma told me about being out in an old crank-style pick-up truck with her boyfriend and her little brother, Willard. Unfortunately, they had a minor wreck at Sunset Rock. And for many months after that, mom’s little brother bribed her, threatening to tell grandpa about that accident.

Stay tuned for Chapter Two!

The Truth Series - Disclaimer

"The Truth" is a blog series about my 40-year experience of church ministry. I have attempted to be fair, honest and discreet. If you have known me throughout the years, at least in any church capacity, do not make an assumption that you know what denomination, denominational leader, church, pastor, board member, church member or ministry I am discussing on any particular point. No matter how well educated your guess, you will probably not “guess” or “discern” correctly. Quite frankly, it is not anybody’s business “who” did what, when, and to whom.

Next, there are “good” leaders and “not-so-good” leaders. There are “good” churches and “not-so-good” churches. There are “good” people and “not-so-good” people. And, I strongly maintain that there are no absolutes in both the “good” and “not-so-good” categories of anything we are discussing. Everyone I am discussing, including myself, are flawed creatures serving a flawless God in the best way we know possible. I believe most people I have encountered have a true love for God. Through the grace of Christ, I hope maintain a healthy earthly relationship with most and top it all off with an eternity together in Heaven.

Also, I am mature enough to realize that the circumstances I share with you did not occur in a vacuum. There were many dynamics at play. Some things I have experienced I must take complete responsibility for. Others were completely outside of my control. Most experiences more than likely fall somewhere on a sliding scale between the two extremes.

Finally, my purpose in sharing is not to bring discouragement to you in your quest for God, quest for truth and your quest for godly relationships. Keep moving forward. Serve God. Support your church. Support your leaders. Just always proceed as wisely as a serpent and harmless as a dove. Above all else, always guard your heart. With all of that said, I hope you enjoy the series.